


Knock Three Times

by quartetship



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Drinking, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Neighbors, alcohol use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-08-07 13:30:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7716559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quartetship/pseuds/quartetship
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Knock three times on the ceiling if you want me.</i><br/>Twice on the pipe if the answer is no...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Can Hear Your Music Playing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ClosetTherapist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClosetTherapist/gifts).



> This fic was inspired by a long-held love of oldies music, the concept of one very cheesy lyric in particular, and my need for sweet slow burn Klance. Hope you guys enjoy!
> 
> Some notes: Lance's sister in this fic is named after my good friend Vash. Most other OC characters will also be named for friends. Y'all know how I do. Also, please read the tags, and do so with each update, because things always change!
> 
> Enjoyed? Please let me know! Like, share, comment, leave kudos, etc, and please come chat with me elsewhere!  
> Find me on [twitter](twitter.com/_quartetship_)  
> or  
> Find me on [tumblr](quartetship.tumblr.com)!
> 
> There's also this [playlist](http://8tracks.com/quartetship/knock-three-times) I made to write to, and the music here accompanies the story pretty well, if I do say so myself! 
> 
> Hope you guys like it! Thanks so much for reading!
> 
> \--

August was a time of change. 

For most, it signaled the end of summer as they knew it, the return of classes and traffic jams to get to them. Stores would clear out their stocks of beach towels and swimsuits to roll out displays of school supplies and autumnal decor, shades of red, brown and orange everywhere in sight. Though the weather would remain hot for weeks to come, fall seemed just around the corner, and the year was always on an exciting downside by the eighth month, like a roller coaster tipping over a peak and heading toward the bottom. 

For Lance McClain, the August that he got his first apartment was a different sort of tipping point. Fresh out of college and eager to get out from beneath his mother’s thumb, he finally had a job lined up and enough money coming in to pay rent for his own place - even if that income  _ was _ earned by waiting tables. Lance had pride, but it never got in the way of an honestly earned dollar, and his job brought in a paycheck, so he held no shame for it. It was at that job where he'd met his good friend Hunk Garret, with whom he would be sharing his first apartment, a first for both of them. With the promise of two bedrooms, a furnished kitchen and central air conditioning, the two had barely glanced the fine print of their lease before signing it, both excited to get out of their parents’ houses and onto their own two feet. 

It wasn't until they were standing in the middle of it that either realized that Arus might not have been the best town in which to do that. 

A small town that looked like something from a postcard of main street America in their grandparents’ generation, Arus offered none of the excitement Lance had hoped for, nor the amenities he had sought. He and Hunk would have to walk a mile just to get to a store, and even in their ‘prime location’, downtown, they were nowhere near anything of significance. 

There didn't seem to  _ be _ anything of significance around, when it came right down to it. 

In many ways, Arus was a town forgotten by time, and Lance and Hunk’s new home - the Arus Midtown Apartments - was certainly no exception. With a lobby wrapped in vintage wallpaper and furnished with creaking chairs, there was a matronly feeling about the old building from the moment a person stepped inside. The splintering wooden staircases and clanking, visible radiators in the halls only accented the dusty pastels of the paint and papers of the walls. It was everything a person might imagine their first apartment being, if those fantasies were set in the 1960’s. 

The woman who ran the place was an interesting character. Seldom seen outside of her small, dark office, she was a shrunken little old woman, with a gravelly voice and long, gray hair that hung nearly to her waist. Every other employee appeared to be a younger, more able-bodied man, but the landlady was still in complete command, even from her little outpost. She spoke with authority and persuasiveness despite her stature, and everyone else listened.

And boy, did she know how to talk up a rental unit.

The lease had detailed an apartment - a  _ suite,  _ in the document’s exact words - with two bedrooms, a full bathroom, a kitchen, living room and dining area. Looking around the space with his own eyes, though, Lance couldn't help being underwhelmed with what he and his friend had actually signed a contract to rent.

There were hotel rooms available on discount websites with more spacious floor plans.

“Two bedrooms?" He snorted. "More like two cracks in the wall on either side of a toilet. Wow." Giving himself a tour, Lance shuffled around the limited space, peeking at every nook and corner. The only doors were the ones that closed off the two tiny bedrooms and the minuscule bath; closets were nothing more than shelves laid deep into the wall in a few places. Paint was chipping and wallpaper peeling in many places, and exposed pipe ran through nearly every room. 

But it was a place to stay, a place to make at least somewhat his own, and - most importantly - a place where he didn't have to answer to anyone, save for his good-natured, laissez-faire friend. 

So warts and all, the place would be alright. Lance was confident. 

“You think this hole will be big enough to throw a few parties?” He asked, knocking his knuckles against the thin wall that lay between the short hallway and the main living area. 

Hunk stared back at him. "For  _ parties? _ Lance, this place will hardly be big enough for me to pass you without knocking you over."

“We could probably make it work,” Lance countered, but he wasn't really much in the mood for making his case, and Hunk wasn't really listening anymore. They kept up their work, hefting boxes and crates up the many sets of stairs, moving furniture into place and helping one another unpack, until a knock at their door broke the pleasant silence that had fallen between them. 

Lance answered, and was nearly knocked backward by the dog that jumped through the doorframe before the young woman behind it even had a chance to speak. 

“Hey, girl!” Lance laughed, hugging his dog Blue around the neck. Blue licked his face, sniffing his clothes and giving him a few more affectionate pounces before bounding off of him, following her nose to the bedroom Lance had laid claim to. Pulling himself off of the floor, Lance looked back at the door, and the girl still standing in it, his sister, Vashianne.

“Sup, sis?” He reached out to hug her with one arm, still dusting himself off with the other. She hugged him in return, waving past him at Hunk with a smile. 

“You boys look like you're working hard,” she noted. Lance nodded, proudly waving around the room to show off their new place. It wasn't much, and he knew it, but all of his siblings shared dreams of getting out of their parents’ household, so in her presence, he was proud of it, all the same.

“Whatcha think, Vash?”

“It's cute in here! Much nicer than mom and dad thought it would be.” She chuckled, poking Lance affectionately when he huffed in response. “I’ll be back sometime next month to visit once school settles down, and you can show me around town here a little, eh? Maybe take me to dinner.” Vash gave him her most charming smile. Lance rolled his eyes, despite his amusement. 

“I like that you're inviting me to take you to dinner like it's an exciting opportunity,” he laughed. His sister shrugged. 

“I'm in college. Free food is very exciting for me. How  _ you _ feel about it is your problem.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll see, okay? Thanks for bringing my buddy to me, though.”

“No problem,” Vash smiled, kneeling to offer her hand to Blue as she reentered the room, nose to the floor, exploring. “She's a sweetie and I'll miss her being at the house, but I'm only there when I have to be, so I guess it's not too big a deal.”

“You can just come see her here,” Lance offered. Vash nodded, standing again. 

“And you can take me to dinner. And drinks.”

“That last part definitely isn't happening on my dime.” Lance said, his eyebrow raised. He pulled his sister to her feet and into another one-sided hug before taking Blue’s leash from her and fastening it to the dog’s collar. He looped the leash to the leg of his and Hunk’s couch, keeping Blue in place momentarily while he walked his sister back to the stairway, where she insisted on making the rest of the trip back to her car, unaccompanied. 

“Take care of yourself, kiddo,” Lance called after her. “I won't be around to kick anybody’s ass if you don't.” She waved, repeating the warning back to him. 

“This place could stand to be a little less sketchy, honestly.” She laughed. “So just make sure you don't get mugged or some shit.”

“Don't worry. I've got Hunk around. He's a good bodyguard.”

“And cute, too.” Vash shouted, halfway down the stairs. Lance cringed after her and shook his head. 

“If you say so, man. I think he's taken, and too old for you anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks for the opinion, big brother. I'll be sure to call you all the time for more of those.”

Lance snorted. “You’d better!” 

With that she was gone, and Lance turned to head back to his new apartment. 

When he walked back through the door, he found Hunk looking the leashed dog over cautiously. They'd long since discussed Lance’s plans to bring his pet to live with them, but Blue was a fairly large dog, a sizeable bull terrier, and Hunk seemed intimidated. Lance laughed to himself at the thought. 

Blue was the world's biggest softy, much like Hunk himself. They just needed to get better acquainted, and Lance knew they'd be fast friends.

He unhooked the dog’s leash from the leg of the couch and headed to his bedroom, both Blue and Hunk following after him. For Blue, trailing those around her was a habit; for Hunk it might have been the same. Lance took a seat on what would soon be his bed, looking back at Hunk hovering in his doorway, smiling widely. 

"Her name's Blue." Lance patted the edge of his bare mattress, and the dog jumped on, knocking him off entirely. From the floor, Lance laughed. “She's chill, I swear. She just doesn't know how big she is.” Blue settled on the mattress with a happy flop, shaking drool from her face. Lance grimaced, watching his dog yawn and stretch in preparation for a nap. “Guess I'll… put my sheets on later, then.”

He left Blue to sleep, happy to see her looking so at home already, and happy to see his roommate smiling in Blue’s direction, every now and again.

Hunk and Lance danced around one another the rest of the day, knees and elbows knocking as each tried to keep his own possessions in his cramped section of the space, but it didn't matter, in the end. Hunk was cheerful and didn't so much as raise an eyebrow at working hard, closely beside Lance to get things settled and sorted. There was little need for personal space when the person sharing it with you was so carefree with their own. In some ways, it reminded Lance of his childhood, of siblings who scarcely kept to themselves when it was much easier not to. Lance was glad for that much; living with Hunk would be just fine. 

Now if he could just drum up something akin to a social life, in the middle of the most deceased part of town, everything would be as good as he could hope for.

\--

Meeting neighbors in a bustling building where most people kept their doors shut for the bulk of the day was a tall order. Growing up, Lance had known everyone he had come into contact with, to the credit of his large, friendly family and their community connections. There in Arus, truly on his own for the first time, he was at a loss for how to start making connections of his own.

Thankfully, he did have a least one foot in the door, by way of Pidge.

Pidge Gunderson-Holt was a mutual acquaintance of Lance and Hunk’s, someone they’d both seen around the restaurant too many times not to chat with occasionally. With a name like Pidge - a nickname, but still - and a sharp voice that spoke loudly and often of strong opinions, they weren’t the kind of person easily forgotten. So when Lance had passed them in the halls on the day of their lease signing, he was glad to find a familiar face. 

His mother had always warned him that you didn’t know a person until you saw them at home, though, and there was apparently a lot about Pidge that Lance and Hunk were unaware of. 

“I live here with my brother, Matt,” Pidge told them, holding the lobby door open as Lance hauled in another armload of his smaller possessions. Pidge had taken it upon themselves to chat with both of them while they finished the more tedious parts of unpacking, and that suited Lance just fine. Talking made for good company in his book, and if there was anything that Pidge did well, it was talking.

“We’ve been here for a little over a year now. He and his man are gettin’ pretty serious though, so I doubt we’ll be here forever.” Pidge shrugged. “I’ll probably end up back with Mom and Dad, unless I move downstairs and get an efficiency.”

“So your bro’s gay?” Lance asked, peering over the top of a loaded down crate. Pidge nodded, suddenly smirking. 

“Yeah, but he’s taken, I just told you that.”

“That’s not why I asked!” Lance insisted, resulting in his nearly dropping the boxes balanced in his arms amid a fit of giggles from Pidge. Struggling to collect himself, he glanced up the stairs ahead of him, passing Pidge by entirely to land on the face of a tall, beautiful blonde woman passing behind them. Pidge turned sharply, sensing Lance’s attention diverted, and turned back to look at him with a knowing grin. 

“God, you’re just  _ looking _ for some, aren’t you?” Pidge teased. “You don't even care who it is!” Lance glared in their direction, hoping the pretty blonde hadn’t heard their conversation, or the smug amusement in Pidge’s voice. She was too far away by then for him to justify introducing himself, almost floating as she turned the corner and then was out of sight entirely. He sighed, wondering what the odds might be that she lived on his floor. 

Probably slim, knowing his luck.

He heaved the boxes higher into his arms and started up the stairs, Pidge following close behind, still chuckling.

“You know, if you’re looking to hookup, there are probably better places to find the chance than here. Especially if you value not having weird venereal diseases.” 

Lance threw Pidge a sharp look over his shoulder, not sure if he was more embarrassed by them accusing the whole of Arus Apartments of having STDs or by their  _ announcement _ to everyone within earshot that he was looking for love. Either way, Pidge went quiet, still smiling smugly. Lance rounded the corners of the stair landings three times over and finally stepped out onto the fourth floor. 

On his way down the hallway Pidge bounded ahead, knocking sharply on a door that didn’t belong to Lance. He really hoped it belonged to someone else Pidge knew, and knew well, considering they didn’t wait half a breath before shouting through it.

“You guys get dressed and come meet my friend!” To punctuate their point, Pidge banged on the door with an open hand, laughing when the knob finally rattled. Someone with hair remarkably like Pidge’s poked their head part of the way out, grumbling quietly before closing the door again with a snap. A moment later, with Lance still waiting - by then too curious to keep moving - two people emerged from the apartment, and Lance was stricken entirely speechless. 

When Pidge had mentioned having a brother, Lance had assumed they would look related, but he would have known Matt without introduction. He was like a living carbon copy of Pidge, save for being about a head taller, and broader at the shoulders. With the same wild, honey-colored curls and glasses to match the ones Pidge wore, they might as well have been twins, and Lance vaguely wondered if they might have been. Matt smiled in Lance’s direction and Lance nodded automatically in response, raising a hand in wordless greeting. Reaching out with one hand to prod at Pidge without ever looking away, Matt returned the gesture, stepping aside to make room for who Lance assumed was ‘his man’, in Pidge’s words. 

And  _ what a man. _

Taller than Lance by several inches with chiseled features and arms that looked strong enough to bench press a car, the man standing behind Pidge’s brother was striking. Despite an angry looking scar that ran straight across his nose and over both cheekbones, and hair that was at least two different colors and interestingly cut, he had a sweet, almost innocent aura that stood in contrast to anything Lance might have imagined, seeing him out of the context of that first meeting. He smiled, somehow even softer and brighter than the one Matt had given Lance, and chuckled under his breath, maybe a little embarrassed by Pidge’s goading. Lance felt his stomach leap into his throat as he stared, dumbstruck.

“This is my brother, Matt, and his boyfriend, Shiro,” Pidge supplied when Lance made no move to speak. “And this is my friend Lance, guys. He and his roommate work at the diner I go to after class.” Pidge nudged Lance hard in the heavily-laden arm. Finally, the words in his throat slipped free. 

“H-Hey, guys. Nice to meet you.” He shrugged to show his hands too full to shake, and it was a good thing, too. He was fairly certain that if Shiro got any closer to him he might say something a little too friendly. Matt wasn’t bad to look at either, but his boyfriend looked like something out of a magazine. 

And his voice was unfairly pretty, to boot.

“Nice to meet you too, Lance,” Shiro smiled, his hand coming to rest on Matt’s shoulder. “Pidge told us they had a few friends moving in - that’s really exciting. You’ll have to introduce us to your roommate.”

“And you should definitely be the one to do it,” Matt agreed, side-eyeing Pidge. “Pidge doesn’t know how to  _ not _ be a complete embarrassment to everyone involved.” Pidge looked down at their nails, giving each of them a glance before slowly raising their middle finger in Matt’s direction. Lance couldn’t stop himself laughing.

“You guys are a trip,” he smiled, trying not to sound as flustered as he was. Meeting new people had never been hard for him before; somewhere in the back of his mind, panic began to arise as the thought of losing his social skills. He grinned wider, battling it back. “You’ll have to come by sometime and meet Hunk. That’s my roommate, big guy, usually wearing collared shirts and shit from work. Always good for a laugh. You’d like him.” He was rambling, mostly to Pidge at that point, but it was Matt who replied. 

“We’ll do that!” he said brightly. “And you guys are welcome to drop by here anytime. I’m home whenever I’m not at the college.”

“But make sure to knock first,” Pidge added. At that, Matt groaned, but Shiro laughed, so Lance did, too. 

“College?” he asked. “You goin’ to school?” Matt shook his head, motioning toward Pidge.

“Pidge is. I’m doing my practicum there, this year.”

Lance nodded. “Gotcha. Well, I’m, uh - I’m gonna get moving and get this stuff back to my place, but it was good talking to you guys. Catch you again sometime, alright?”

“Absolutely!” Shiro replied, joining Matt in waving pleasantly after Lance as he turned to leave. They went back inside their own unit, Pidge trailing behind them, and Lance wondered for a moment if they all lived there together. He hurried back to the apartment he shared with Hunk to unload the story of meeting the two of them onto his friend.

\--

“I’m serious, Hunk - this dude was like mister universe in black under armor with cool ass hair. I’m pretty sure Pidge’s brother sacrificed like at least ten virgins and a dozen goats to land him.”

“That’s not very nice,” Hunk chastised, otherwise listening intently to Lance’s retelling of his day. He sat cross-legged on the floor in front of their couch, feeding Blue potato chips between bites as they talked. “Pidge is cute; I’m sure their brother is good looking, too.”

“I didn’t say he wasn’t,” Lance amended. “Dude looks almost exactly like Pidge, it’s honestly kinda weird. But I’m telling you, that Shiro guy was a greek god. Like salad dressing commercial material.”

“Dang.” Hunk accepted Lance’s description, nodding thoughtfully. “Makes you wonder what a guy like that is doing around here, when he could be in Cali or New York, modeling for condiment companies.”

At that, Lance lost focus, nearly falling backward across the couch as he cackled. After that, recounting the less important moments from his day were easier, interspersed with jokes and the relaxed feeling that only came from being with a friend as easy to talk to as Hunk was. It made him glad for his choice of roommate, though it was still a strange concept to him that Hunk would be his only human companion, for most of his time there. 

Hopefully he would make more friends, in ways  _ other _ than having their siblings interrupt what was likely something  _ very important _ to introduce him to them. For the moment, at least he knew a few more names, and that was a step in the right direction. 

“So now you know some neighbors,” his sister said, that afternoon on the phone with him. Vash sounded distracted, and Lance felt a twinge of homesickness, wondering what she was doing. She didn't seem to notice. “Won’t be long before you’re all settled in. Need to get you one of those little wooden signs that say like ‘live, laugh, love’ or some other bullshit mom finds at Target.”

Lance smiled. He loved Vash’s humor and optimism; in many ways he mirrored it. But in other ways, he was still unsure that he’d made the right decision, trying to stand on his own two feet, especially being such a social person. He wasn’t sure he was ready to live a life that could be lonely for long stretches, but it was a reality he’d chosen for himself, either way. 

But no one else needed to hear about that. Not his new neighbors, not his roommate, and certainly not his sister. He gave her a quiet laugh, instead.

“I hope so. Anyway, Vash, listen - I’ve gotta get ready and head to work. Text me this weekend if you need anything, alright? Love you, kid.”

Though he did indeed need to ready himself for work that night, Lance hung up with his sister and flopped down on his bed, welcoming Blue up beside him. Work was a welcome escape from his thoughts, a chance to laugh and talk and smile at people he didn't know, a chance to be in his element. But part of him wished he could bring that home with him, wondered if that was even possible.

On shift that evening, he wondered how long it would be before heading back to the apartment would  _ feel _ like going home.

\--

Lance woke up early, that first weekend morning he spent in the new apartment. 

It wasn't by choice. His staticky dreams gave way to blurred and bleary-eyed reality as his ears brought him into consciousness hours before his alarm was even set to go off. Groaning, he listened for whatever his mind had deemed important enough to wake him to hear. Amidst the sounds of everyday apartment life, Lance could hear a strange, melodic warbling. It was faint, just barely audible with every other noise that half a dozen floors gave rise to in such an aged building. But it was there, it was weird, and it was annoying. 

The part of his mind that was irritated and aggravated wanted to stalk the halls searching for the source of the sound and knock on that door, but his common sense told him that might take too long. He had better things to do with a Saturday morning, especially considering it wouldn't be long before he was back on his feet and in costume-like uniform at work. 

Rolling out of bed, Lance reached to the floor, his hand finding the top of Blue’s head and rousing her as well, welcoming her onto his bed before they both climbed from it and headed for the kitchen. Hunk was already there. Lance raised a hand in his direction, greeting him sleepily.

“Dude, we should have a party next weekend," he mumbled. True, it wasn't much of a ‘good morning’, but Lance was still a little irritated that he was even awake during hours that could be considered morning. 

Hunk looked up from the frying pan he was poking at, frowning. “I thought we agreed that there's not enough room in here.”

“You said that, not me,” Lance corrected. “Besides, we've got plenty of places to sit, and maybe I could make a little room for a guest or two in my room, y’know?” He waggled his eyebrows. Hunk rolled his eyes. 

“How are we gonna  _ pay _ for a party? We just had to sink all that money for rent and the deposit, plus we still owe the movers. I mean, we can probably make food but what about drinks?” 

Lance shrugged, shuffling toward the small refrigerator. “BYOB. Let the party bring itself.” He snatched a can of soda from the refrigerator shelf, cracking it open and downing it in a single go. With a loud burp, he crushed the can between his hands and held it out in Hunk’s direction proudly. To Hunk’s credit, he nodded, looking appropriately impressed. 

“What's your schedule like next weekend?” he asked, apparently resigned to let Lance have his way. Lance grinned. 

“Wide open, what about you?” 

Hunk looked up at the ceiling for a moment, eyes closing as he thought. “I think I'm only on the floor on Friday, but I said I'd come in for Mish on Saturday morning to wash dishes, so it'll have to be Saturday night.”

Lance nodded, reaching out to clap Hunk on the shoulder. “Saturday it is.” He peeked over Hunk’s shoulder, watching him slide half a dozen slices of bacon onto a plate for a moment before snaking an arm over Hunk’s to steal one. Hunk offered the plate out for him to take another, but Lance waved a hand in reply, eating his snack in a single mouthful before heading back to his bedroom. 

“Where you goin’?” Hunk asked after him, moving to flop down on their small, shared couch. Lance shouted his response from inside his closet as he looked for clothes.

“Gettin’ dressed.” 

“Already?” Hunk asked. “We don't start until one, today.”

“I know,” Lance answered. “Which means I've only got a couple of hours to get around and invite people.”

Hunk laughed. “Dude, you're really on about this, aren't you?” 

“Some of us are still lookin’ for a hookup, man. And I'm not gonna find it sittin’ by myself in the apartment.” Pulling shoes on, Lance gave himself a quick glance in the wall mirror that hung in the cramped bathroom, deciding that he was presentable. “Gonna talk to the Holts, probably have Matt bring his hot boyfriend so you can behold his glory for yourself, and see if that pretty blonde girl I saw the other day wants to come, if I can find her again. Anyone else you wanna invite?”

Hunk shook his head. “Just Shay, but I'll call her.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Affixing Blue’s leash to her collar - Lance couldn't make a trip around the building without taking Blue out for a bit, he knew - he gently tugged his dog behind him and waved over his shoulder as he headed out the door. “Catch you later, man.”

\--

Somehow the stars seemed to align for Lance that day better than they ever had, because everyone he spoke to that afternoon agreed to come by, that Saturday. He tried to keep his surprise at his own luck to himself, especially in front of the gorgeous blonde, who he not only lucked into seeing again, but actually managed to introduce himself to without melting into a puddle at her radiant warmth. 

“Party this weekend,” he said quickly, as she brushed past him in the hall, hands full of grocery bags. When she flipped her hair over one shoulder and tossed him an interested smile, he approached, following her to her door and pulling Blue after him. Without prompting from the pretty stranger, he took the bags from her hands to allow her to dig through her pockets for keys. Blue sat by, restless but quiet as Lance spoke to her. “Would love to see you there, if you’ve got the time to drop by.” 

“I might,” she said, turning to lean against the frame of her door as it swung open behind her with a creak. “You gonna tell me your name first?” She held out hands to take her groceries back; Lance handed them over. 

“Lance,” he said quickly. “Lance McClain, apartment four hundred and five.” He offered her his smoothest, most charming grin. She returned it, laughing a little too loudly. Lance swallowed. 

_ God, she was cute.  _

“Nice to meet you properly, Lance. I’m Nyma. Apartment four hundred and eight.” She pointed at the plaque on the door behind her, chewing playfully at her bottom lip. “I’m not here all that often, though, so if I need anything I’ll just come find you at your place.”

“Yeah, y-yeah,” Lance agreed, nodding furiously. “I’d like that. And uh, party is Saturday evening at my place. Mine and my roommate’s. You can, uh - you can bring friends if you want.” He knew better, knew they didn’t have room for a crowd, but he wasn’t about to retract the invite. Nyma shrugged. 

“My friends are all out of town right now,” she said, “So I guess  _ you’ll _ just have to keep me company this weekend.” She winked, then turned on her heel and stepped into her apartment, giving Lance a final flutter of her eyelashes before closing the door between them. “See you later.”

“See you,” Lance said after her, smiling as he stared at her closed door for a long moment afterward. Finally, he shook himself back together and headed for the stairs to take Blue and himself outside for a little sunshine. 

\--

When the evening of the party arrived, Hunk hurried around the tiny kitchen preparing snacks while Lance took his best shot at cleaning. With everything in at least acceptable order, he dragged out his laptop and a rarely used pair of speakers to set the mood with music, and filled Hunk’s largest mixing bowl with as much ice as he could. He hadn’t actually hosted a gathering since sometime in high school, but this was more like a dorm party, he reasoned. A study group without all the pestersome studying. And the distinct possibility of landing a date as a result, rather than passing a test. 

Getting dressed, he made sure he looked his best, flashing a wide smile to himself in the mirror before answering the first set of knocks at their door.

The Holts arrived together, as Lance was beginning to think they likely did, everywhere. With Shiro trailing behind, fingers loosely hooked with Matt’s, Lance amused himself with thoughts of Pidge accompanying the two of them, even on dates. But as easygoing as Shiro seemed to be, Lance wasn’t sure the guy would even be bothered. Besides, it was Pidge who seemed to be leading the other two.

It was also Pidge who sat the first case of drinks on the narrow kitchen counter, despite Lance not even being sure they were  _ old enough _ to drink. He exchanged a glance with Hunk, who simply shrugged before moving to answer the door and welcome his girlfriend Shay inside. Lance sighed.  _ Whatever. _ If Pidge got smashed illegally under the eye of Matt and Shiro, it was their alcohol and their problem, not his.

He had other things to think about that night. Like the knock at the door that had to be Nyma. 

She looked stunning, wearing a silky blue and violet top that showed just enough skin to set Lance’s pulse to racing as he showed her inside. Breezing past him, she held up two bottles of Vodka, shaking them suggestively in the direction of the other people already seated in the living room, as if she knew them. Lance pointed to the table where other drinks were already chilling, taking the opportunity to lay his hand gently on the small of her back as he directed her toward it, taking the bottles from her and replacing them with a plate for her to fill. With a look that bordered on confusion, Nyma glanced down at the spread of snacks, then back up at Lance, this time smiling with more endearment than before. 

She reached up to touch his face, ruffle his hair, before asking if anyone else was on their way. When Lance shook his head, a little embarrassed by the small gathering, she only shrugged, seemingly satisfied with his response. “More for me, then.” 

Refilling the plates of snacks suddenly felt like Lance’s highest priority. 

Distracted, he made his way across the living room floor to retrieve more food, only to catch the tangled cords of his and Hunk’s game systems and television with the toe of his shoe. Before he could steady himself, he fell, and for the first time that night, he was aware of raucous laughter, all around him. Hunk helped him from the floor with obvious concern, but Lance’s pride was far more wounded than any other part of him. 

Feeling his anxieties rise hot in his throat, Lance worried that their little thrown-together house party was going over about as well as his attempt at walking through it had. But looking around, everything was good. Hunk was regaling Pidge, Matt and Shiro with stories from his college days, Nyma had fallen into easy conversation with Shay, and even Blue seemed to be enjoying herself, nibbling at the scraps on plates laid aside by everyone. It was a close to perfect as things could have been, in the close quarters of apartment 405. 

That was, until the sound of party pleasantries gave way to an off-beat thumping, catching everyone’s attention.

At first, it sounded like the music's rhythm was somehow off. But then Lance heard it, and Hunk's expression said he did too. Clear and deliberate, the sound was unmistakable once Lance knelt to hear it.    
  
From the floor below -  _ knock, knock, knock. _

Understanding what he was hearing at last, Lance’s face screwed up in anger. Looking down at the floor and then back up at his roommate, he cast Hunk an irritated glare, trying to figure out exactly where to stomp to retaliate against the knocking neighbor, below. 

"Hunk. I think the asshole below us wants to fuckin' go."    
  
Hunk shook his head. "Mm, pretty sure they didn't say that. Nobody did, actually. Just you." He seemed content to ignore the disturbance, but Lance had no intention to do so. Already embarrassed by falling flat on his face, he wasn't about to be made to look like a coward by a stranger on a different floor. He eyed the room, looking for the spot he figured was the closest to where the sound had come from, and before Hunk could speak a single word in protest, Lance all but  _ launched _ himself across the floor to land on that spot with a thunderous slam. 

“C’mon now, Lance,” Hunk winced, but it was too late. One good jump wasn't enough to quell Lance’s anger. He stomped on the floor repeatedly, making absolutely certain that whoever was in the apartment below theirs would hear him returning fire. 

The party around him went silent as everyone watched him, and after a few seconds, he slowed his spiteful steps, growing self-conscious. Listening, though, Lance heard no further sounds from the apartment below, so he assumed that he had made his point. Laughing off the tension of the moment, he found a seat and took it, glad to let Pidge strike conversation back up with the others to relieve the feeling of awkwardness sitting atop his shoulders. 

For a few moments, everything was fine, and Lance turned the music back up to drown out the last lingering thoughts of the strange interruption. Catching Nyma’s eye he grinned, stretching in an effort to look casual before rising to his feet to move across the room toward her, but he never made it beyond standing. 

There was a sharp, loud rapping at the apartment door, the same, unpleasant  _ knock, knock, knock _ as before. 

Cracking his fingers as he curled them into a fist, Lance clamored to the door to open it. 

On the other side, standing with his arms firmly crossed, was a young man that could not have been any older than Lance himself. He wore a jacket that looked like he might have stolen it from the set of an eighties music video, his mouth twisted to one side in a small frown as he glowered at Lance. Dark hair fell almost  _ into _ his angry, narrowed eyes, hanging even longer in the back. 

The guy had an honest to God  _ mullet.  _ Lance might have laughed if he wasn't so damned pissed. 

“Yeah?” He asked curtly. The stranger looked him up and down for a moment before finally speaking. 

“Can you please keep it down a bit up here?” It was exactly what Lance had been waiting for him to say. His huffed through his nose, closing the door most of the way, leaning out through what was left of the opening to glare at the stranger outside. 

“Who the hell are you to ask?” 

“Your downstairs neighbor,” the other man said, as if it should have been obvious - as if he didn't know why Lance was asking. “My name is Keith. I live below you, and your noise is keeping me awake. Could you please tone it down some?”

“Yeah, well you could've just  _ asked _ instead of slamming shit against the ceiling at us.” Lance sneered. The other man - Keith - looked back at him, his expression still somewhere between angry and confused. 

“I didn't want to have to walk all the way up here,” he said, growing impatient. “But since that didn't seem to work, I did. So please knock it off, alright?”

“Why don't you make me?” Lance said with a grumble, only half serious. Keith lunged toward the door and Lance couldn't stop himself stiffening at the sudden movement. 

“Look, dude - I don't want to live beneath a selfish prick, but since I apparently have no choice, and we’re gonna be neighbors, how about you just grow the fuck up?” He was close to Lance’s face then, and Lance could see that Keith was shorter, smaller than he was, but looked quite a bit sturdier. He thought it best not to risk an actual fight with his friends right behind him. 

“Whatever,” he settled on, in response. “Just fuck off.”

With a final glare, Keith did just that, leaving in a sour huff, with Lance still hanging in the doorway, watching him stomp away. When he was finally out of sight, Lance pulled his head back through the door, turning to see how curious his friends undoubtedly were about what was going on. To his surprise, they hardly seemed to notice him returning to the room, all talking amongst themselves. 

Hunk took note, though. He moved toward Lance without pause, worry on his face. 

“What -  _ who _ was that?” 

Lance inhaled sharply, dragging his tongue slowly across his teeth as he tried to think of exactly what to tell Hunk. What he settled on wasn't entirely untrue. 

“Just some asshole. Don't worry about it. Let's have some fun.”

Locking the door, Lance reached for his laptop, turned the music up even louder, and carried on, pretending he didn't know the downstairs neighbor’s name, and that he'd never had to deal with him, that night. 

He hoped he would never have to, again.

\--

The numbers on his cell phone’s clock face were  _ obscene _ when everyone finally left the apartment. Lance couldn't remember having been up so late since college, and though he was certain he’d be paying for it the following day, he took the risk and stay up to greet the sunrise with Nyma, Shay, and Hunk before seeing the girls off and finally flopping down on his bed, still mostly dressed. With Blue curled up beside his bed asleep and no alarm to wake for, he was all set for a sweet slide into Sunday afternoon after a lengthy nap.

But the universe had other plans for Lance McClain.

Those plans involved the same strange music that had woken him far too early, several days before. There was no disputing the reality of it, this time. The moment the sounds began, they were loud enough to wake the dead, and Lance was up, stumbling like a zombie through the apartment.

“Hunk? Hunk!” he slurred, smacking along the walls to find his way, his eyes still half closed. “Hunk, you here, man?” There was no reply, so Lance thumped a loosely balled fist against his roommate's door and found that it swung open to reveal a neat, orderly and totally empty bedroom. Groaning, Lance shook his head, still acutely aware of the warbling sounds that had woken him. 

It wasn’t Hunk, there was no one else in the apartment anymore, and Lance was fairly sure that the noises had nothing to do with any kind of religious service from the planet earth. Sensible options ruled out, he dragged a hand down his face, trying to understand what kind of weirdo - what kind of  _ asshole _ \- would be blaring shitty new age music at the crack of dawn on a Sunday morning. Then, all at once, to came to him.

An asshole.  _ That _ was the answer. 

Keith. 

To confirm his suspicions, Lance dropped to the floor, letting his ear hover less than a foot above it. Indeed, the rhythm was radiating from somewhere below him, and when he pressed his ear flush against the carpeting, he could almost make out a melody, though there wasn’t much of one to be heard. Before he could even put thought into what he was doing, Lance was cursing under his breath, fingers curling into tight fists as he pushed himself to his feet, making for the living room. 

“S’at how it is, prick? Gonna blare your fuckin’ space jams at eight o’clock in the damned morning?” Lance spat, to no one in particular. In his sleepless stupor, he was almost  _ sure _ Keith could hear him as he raised his voice and added, “Knock it off, you dick!”

With the fervor of feet on fire, Lance bounded into the middle of his and Hunk’s living room and began to jump in place. First stomping with one leg and then both at once, he imagined himself trampling all over whatever Keith was using to play his ridiculous music on, smashing it to pieces so he could sleep again. As satisfying a thought as that was, it only took a few minutes for Lance’s bare feet to ache from being banged against the floor, so when the music abated, he ceased too, satisfied. 

“That’s right, asshole. And keep it to yourself, next time.” 

Rolling his shoulders and twisting at his waist to pop the stiffness from his back Lance yawned, voicing his irritation at the light pouring through the apartment’s poorly shaded windows with a huff. It was far too early to be dealing with bullshit, and yet there he was, still in time for breakfast and already wading through it. Still, there would be plenty of time for a nap before Hunk returned that afternoon. Lance wandered back toward his bedroom, finding Blue sprawled across his bed atop his blankets. Too tired to push her away, Lance stretched out beside her, eyes shuttering closed on a sleepy sigh. 

The placid semi-silence of the apartment around him was much more of what he’d been expecting that morning, and in it, he began to drift back to sleep, memories of the party the night before pulling a smile to his lips as he faded from consciousness. His body glad for rest and his mind glad for an entire weekend free from work, he wondered distantly what plans he might make later, after he had banked a few more hours of sleep. Maybe he’d do nothing at all. As long as he didn’t have to deal with Keith’s shenanigans anymore, he’d count the day as a win.

But a few seconds later, the music emanating from the floor below began again in earnest, the windows buzzing with the force of it, and Lance’s eyes were open again, all plans for peace evaporating. He buried his head beneath a pillow, then another, and finally gave up, dragging himself out of bed and toward the bathroom for a shower, making as much noise as he possibly could along the way. 

His neighbor may have won the day, but Lance knew what seemed to irritate Keith, and he was anything but afraid to retaliate. 

Stepping into warm, comforting water, he wondered how often he could convince Hunk to let him host parties, and just how loud he could be, doing it.

\--

The dance of Lance and his neighbor trying to outpace each other in annoyance continued for days. It became like a routine, Lance shuffling noisily around the apartment every evening despite Hunk’s warnings and chiding, and Keith returning the favor by waking him up shortly after dawn with strange sounds that vaguely resembled music. By the time nearly a week had passed - and Lance had nearly fallen asleep on his feet at work twice - he decided he’d had enough. 

He would take the fight directly to Keith. 

Hunk seemed to be aware of his intentions. What began as the casual blocking of Lance’s path to the door led to outright tugging of Lance backward from it, as Hunk urged him not to do anything rash. “Listen to me for once in your life,” he begged, but Lance’s mind was made up.

“Just let me go take care of this guy and we can get on with our lives, man.” Cracking his knuckles, Lance paused for all of a second to consider the fact that he wasn’t actually sure what he was going to do. He wasn’t much of a fighter, and clearly Keith had no listening or reasoning skills, so what was he even planning on  _ doing, _ once he reached the door, downstairs?

It didn’t matter. He’d figure it out on the way or just wing it, if he had to. Whatever it took to get Keith to lay off and leave him alone, he was game for it. 

Hunk was still in front of the door, fixing him with a hard frown, insistent on discouraging him from going anywhere. Voices raised, they argued for a moment, loud enough to upset Blue, and even as he bounded over to bark at them both, Lance only dropped a hand to pat him, calming him just enough to keep talking. 

“If you don’t wanna be involved, it’s whatever, Hunk. You’re always a neutral party, and I love that about you. But I don’t wanna deal with this shit anymore, and I’m going down there to--”

The obnoxiously loud ringing of Hunk’s cell phone stopped their conversation short, and Hunk dug through his jacket pocket to answer it. Upon doing so, his expression began to fall further, and pretty much didn't stop until he was seated on the couch, forehead in his hand as he rubbed at his temples. 

“Yes ma'am. Mhm. We’ll see that it doesn't. Mhm, thank you. You too.” He hung up, dropping the phone on the couch beside him and looking up to fix Lance with an irritated glower. Lance glared back on reflex.

“What?!” he demanded. Hunk sighed. 

“That was the landlady.” He left it at that, as if Lance might somehow understand what the entire conversation had been about, purely from receiving that one piece of information. When Lance continued staring critically, Hunk let his head fall back, sighing louder. 

“She was calling about ‘numerous complaints of noise disturbance from our downstairs neighbor’,” he said. “Keith called the management, Lance. You've  _ gotta _ stop trying to piss him off, because it's clearly working.”

“What an asshole,” Lance spat. “I can't fucking - he  _ started _ all this bullshit, and he called the landlady on  _ us?!” _

“On  _ you,” _ Hunk corrected him, “And technically, no.  _ You _ started all of this.”

“And how do you figure that?” 

“The party was the whole reason he banged on the ceiling the first time, remember?” 

“Yeah. And then he came stomping up here--”

“After you jumped up and down right above his head. Repeatedly.” Hunk looked at the middle of the floor, as if to make his point. “And all he did was knock, Lance. You met him at the door with your hand in a fist.”

“He's a dick,” Lance said, no real excuse to offer for himself. “And now we’re gonna have to tiptoe around our own damned apartment, just to keep from pissing him off.” 

“Or, an easier solution - we just be  _ civilized human beings _ toward him, and he can return the favor.” Hunk rose from his seat on the couch, apparently done with the conversation. “Look man, I'm gonna go see Shay for a bit before work tonight. You're welcome to do whatever, but please don't include irritating Keith on your to-do list.”

“Fuckin’ up my plans, man,” Lance deadpanned, by Hunk was already heading out the door. With a groan, Lance made for the fridge, wondering if they had anything to drink other than off brand Kool-aid and milk. A small but mostly-full bottle of Jack Daniels that he'd forgotten from the party peeked out from behind a container of butter, and he seized it by the neck and wiggled it out. 

It joined him for an evening in front of his laptop with Blue, watching YouTube videos, occasionally answering Facebook messages from family, and providing the sour to accompany the whiskey every time he thought about his conversation with Hunk that evening. 

He drank until he didn't care so much anymore, and finally, he slept. 

\--

The next morning, on top of nursing a fairly spectacular hangover headache, Lance was also nursing a growing hatred for his downstairs neighbor. 

It hit him full in the face when he awoke, his first thought of the day. In the course of a week, Keith had woken him up no less than half a dozen times to his weird music, interrupted his first actual party at the new place and probably been the reason Nyma hadn't given him her number,  _ and _ had gotten him in trouble with the landlady. Lance barely knew the guy, and he was already fairly certain he'd never disliked someone quite so intensely. Most of his free time had gone from relaxing and making attempts at being social to figuring out how to get back at Keith. But with a reprimand already hanging over his head, he wasn't sure that continuing to try and reciprocate Keith’s asshole antics was a good plan. 

If he couldn't get back at him, maybe Lance could at least get  _ away _ from him. 

“Let's just get out of here,” Lance said to Hunk, first thing, brightening at the thought of a simple solution. Blue had already beaten him to the kitchen, and was hovering beside Hunk’s legs, waiting for scraps from the breakfast he was cooking. Lance continued, knowing full well that Hunk was used to jumping straight into the thick of conversation with him without ceremony. 

“Let’s get the hell away from Keith. We can just break the lease, and we’ll find somewhere else to stay, without an asshole beneath us.”

“We can't,” Hunk said flatly, tossing Blue bits of bacon without so much as looking up at Lance. “Even if I wanted to, which I don't - we signed a full year lease, and the contract said that if we break it, we owe another month's rent up front,  _ and _ we don't get our deposit back. Plus, there weren't any other apartments open when we found this place, so there aren't gonna be any now.” He shrugged, shaking his head to flip his bangs out of his eyes before reaching into his pants pocket for a headband to secure them. Looking at Lance, he shook his head. “Basically, we can't  _ afford _ to leave.”

"So we're stuck here, for an entire year with Asshole McMullet living under us." Lance groaned. “Awesome.”

"It'll be fine, Lance."   
  


_ "Fine _ would be if God took pity on my soul and Mullet Man moved away.” Lance sprawled lazily across a newly acquired beanbag chair that sat in front of Hunk’s small television in their living room, not even bothering to ask about it, first. Draping an arm across his closed eyes, he heaved a sigh. Across the room, Hunk laughed aloud.

“Okay there, Mister Days of Our Lives, I think you’ll be alright. Just don't  _ talk _ to the guy.”

Indignant, Lance peered back at him from beneath his arm. “And just let him blare his music and beat on the floor anytime he feels like it?”

“He won't, if we just leave him alone. He told you so, himself.” Hunk loaded his plate, and one for Lance, still smiling. “It just isn't an issue, Lance.” 

Lance huffed, sinking into the beanbag sourly. Maybe Hunk was right. Maybe he  _ could _ simply ignore Keith, and life on the fourth floor could go on without regard to anyone on the third. Maybe it really didn't have to be an issue. 

But for some reason, even as Hunk went on with the rest of his day, the rest of his week, unfazed, Lance could not. He couldn't stop seeing Keith’s bitter frown, his ridiculous jacket, his stupid mullet. Though his lip would curl of its own accord every time, he couldn't stop thinking about his downstairs neighbor. 

And that was a very big issue. 


	2. You Don't Even Know Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'One floor below me, you don't even know me...'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So after polling my twitter followers, this was the au that was most requested for an update, so I'm more than happy to bring this story back to life. There have been a few minor changes to the first chapter to incorporate new ideas, and starting next chapter, updates will likely be more lengthy. Until then, enjoy this short update, and please remember to let me know what you think!
> 
> \--

Lance adjusted fairly quickly to apartment living. 

It was a smooth transition, insomuch that he was relatively comfortable in his small living space, even sharing narrow excuses for rooms and hallways with Hunk. He figured that if he could just work up an immunity to his neighbor Keith’s hotheaded bullshit, he'd feel right at home, before long. 

One of the few drawbacks of shared housing was the communal lobby and mail room. It was nearly impossible to be left alone when every neighbor on the block lived within a few hundred feet of you, one way or the other. When there was a rush in or out of the building at Arus Apartments, Lance even bumped elbows with a few folks, and when he wasn't in the best mood, it was a less than pleasant inconvenience. 

He could put up with it, though. It was only a minor flaw in an otherwise acceptable living situation. So when he went to retrieve his and Hunk’s mail that Saturday morning, the close quarters of the building's shared spaces wasn't even a subject of thought for him. 

Until he opened the door to the mailroom. 

Behind it, a familiar head of black hair was turned to face him, as its owner rummaged through his own mail slot. When he turned around, Keith saw him as well, and Lance could almost feel the temperature in the room rise as they exchanged harsh, fiery glares. 

Why Keith? There were dozens of other residents in the building that Lance would have rather run into, including every single stranger. Why couldn't he have bumped into Nyma, or another pretty, pleasant presence? Why did it have to be  _ Keith? _

For a moment, Lance entertained the idea of saying something. There were a million things rolling on around on the tip of his tongue, most of them insults. In the end, Keith pushed past him with a huff before he had a chance to choose one, and Lance was left staring at the empty room where he had just been, boiling inside. 

He stood there, paralyzed with bitterness for what might have been several minutes before he turned on his heel to head back upstairs, mail forgotten altogether. 

“God, that guy is such a dick!” Lance kicked the door closed behind him, startling Blue enough to bring her barking through the apartment. Hunk looked up, wincing.

“Who?” he asked, though Lance couldn't tell if the concern in his voice was meant for him or the brittle door facing. “Everything okay?”

“Everything's fine, except we live in the same building as that sweat stain, Keith!” Lance spat. He snatched Blue up from where she paced in front of him and held her like a rag doll, adrenaline making her near weightless in his arms. Across the room, Hunk sat back in his chair. 

“Oh, okay. I thought something was actually wrong.”

Lance shot him the most pointed glare he could manage. “How do you think me being miserable in my own apartment is not wrong, dude?”

“Because it's really not something that has a cause,” Hunk explained. “There's no reason for it, nothing that anybody needs to fix. Like - you did this to yourself, man.” 

“I didn't do anything!” Lance shouted. Still holding his dog, he crossed the two steps between the door and their couch, sitting with a defiant thump, his eyes fixed on Hunk. Blue jumped out of his arms; Lance crossed them over his chest. 

Hunk did not so much as bat an eye at his friend's raised voice. “I mean we both know  _ that's _ not true,” he replied calmly, and Lance couldn't argue. Hunk looked like he was sure of that much. “But what I'm saying is, no one else seems to have a problem with this guy. So like… it's obviously just a you thing, or at least just between you and him. Either way, not an actual problem.”

Deflating like he'd been punctured, Lance sighed. He sat back, close to lying down as he grumbled, “You're the worst, Hunk.” 

Finally, Hunk smiled. “I'll remember that tonight when you're whining for me to do temp logs at work so you don't have to.”

Lance rolled his eyes and threw an arm across them. Running the fingers of his other hand absently through Blue’s short fur, he sighed. It definitely wasn't just a ‘him’ thing. Plenty of people liked  _ him; _ Lance had tons of friends, people asked for him by name on a regular basis at work, and he could count the people he clashed with on one hand for the span of his entire life. 

So it had to be Keith's fault. It  _ had _ to be. Of that much, at least, Lance was sure.

\--

Work began before the sun went down that evening, allowing Lance a pleasant distraction from his stewing thoughts as he watched the sunset through the massive picture windows of the diner.

The Sock Hop was a place that seemed to exist entirely separate from the March of time. Inside the heavy swinging glass doors, the diner harkened back to a time before most of the employees were even born, with decor and memorabilia that paid tribute to the era of poodle skirts and leather jackets. Some of the photos on the walls were apparently taken by the owner, himself, back in the early fifties. Lance had never cared enough to verify that, but he loved dragging supposed facts like it into his banter with their customers. 

Lance made good tips. Dressed in a uniform of crisp button-down shirts and slim-fitting pants cuffed at the ankle, he made their ridiculous retro garb look good - even Hunk told him so. It certainly didn't hurt that he loved talking. The old ladies and teenage girls loved him; he just wished people somewhere close to his own age would come in more often. 

Shining up the long, Formica countertop that stretched in front of the diner’s soda fountain, he watched the clock that day, lost in thought. It was hard not to wish away his twenties when he was spending them the way that he was, working for minimum wage in a dead-end town, wondering where to go from that tiny dot on the map. It was hard to look onward and upward toward the future when he had no idea where to even begin preparing to launch from Arus.

From the back of the diner, he could hear Hunk singing along to the music drifting from the neon-lit jukebox. Lance smiled despite himself; at least he liked his job well enough. 

His shifts never felt as long as they were, even when he was in no mood for work. By the time his boss - the diner’s elderly owner - was clapping him on the shoulder and telling him that he was free to go, he hadn't even finished his entire thought process. He would have plenty of time to talk it through with Hunk sometime, if he wanted. For the moment, he waited in the dining room until his friend was dismissed as well, and they headed out to catch a bus home, together. 

There hadn't even been time to give his downstairs neighbor a passing thought, and that was exactly how Lance preferred things. 

\--

He should have known better than to think he'd get a full twenty-four hours of uninterrupted, peaceful silence in his apartment.

Lance didn't mind the relatively quiet shuffling about that Hunk did in the mornings, or the sounds of Blue barking or growling at occasional passers-by on the creaky, hardwood floors of the halls outside their front door. He wasn't bothered by the sounds of traffic outside, especially in such a sleepy little corner of town. The soundtrack of everyday life wouldn't have bothered him that morning, or any other. 

Keith's stupid music did. 

As he seemed to be getting far too in the habit of, Keith began playing his strange excuse for music just a little after eight that morning, waking Lance up and unsettling Blue. When Lance couldn't stand another minute of the warbling, he reached to the floor from his spot in bed and knocked sharply, mumbling a litany of curses. Silence fell for one brief, blissful moment before the music resumed in earnest, thumping to a rhythm that mimicked Lance's knocking and pissed him off just enough to roll him out of bed. 

He groaned, scrubbing his hands over his face for a moment as he braced himself for another day living above the devil downstairs, and hauled himself to his feet. With Blue at his feet, he set out for a walk, happy just to put distance between himself and the apartment. At least his neighborhood was nice, and maybe by the time he returned, Keith would find someone else to annoy for a while. 

Lance could only hope.

\--

Returning from his walk, an overwhelming dread flooded Lance's senses as he made his way through the front doors of the building and toward the mail room. The last thing he wanted was to collide with Keith again. He gripped Blue’s leash like a lifeline as they headed inside. 

Thankfully, the only person they encountered inside was Pidge. 

“Pidge,” he said with a tremendous sigh. He was still winded from his walk, but most of it was a sound of relief. Pidge grinned to beat the midday sun. 

“Hey, Lance! You goin’ somewhere?” 

“Just got back,” Lance replied. 

“Will you come with me to get Matt, then?” Pidge asked. “He's with Shiro and last time I went alone, I got a twenty minute wait and Matt making overdramatic sex noises against the door while Shiro finished getting ready.” 

Lance snorted. “Sounds awful.” Pidge shook their head. 

“Not even the worst thing he's done this week, so don't compliment his antagonizing skills.” They shuddered, squinting. “It makes him _bolder.”_

“Noted,” Lance laughed, reminded of his own siblings in a strange sort of way. He followed Pidge out of the mail room, listening to them chatter as the two of them and Blue headed up the stairs.

The third floor was laid out similarly to the one above it, save for the space between the aged, wooden doors. There were far more brass numbers to be seen on the floor below Lance's, since every unit there was a studio apartment. Lance had briefly wondered on more than one occasion how different the living spaces themselves were there, and he got his answer that morning, as Shiro’s door swung slowly open. 

From what Lance could see through the doorway, Shiro’s apartment was clean and orderly. Minimally decorated and neatly kept, it reminded Lance of Shiro himself, with sharp lines and basic colors, somehow more modern than the space just outside its door. Even with Shiro’s wide frame and Matt’s much narrower one blocking a great deal of his view as they doled out greetings and reached to pet Blue, Lance could see that Shiro lived well in the limited space he had. 

Maybe he could give Lance pointers on just exactly how to do that, in an oddly laid out building like theirs. 

Lance wondered if every apartment on the third floor was similar to Shiro’s. He figured they must all be designed in some similar pattern, even if not every one was as well kept as Shiro's was. He wagered Keith's was probably a disaster, by comparison, if his appearance was any indication. 

Huffing a laugh under his breath, Lance shot a glance across the hall, staring at what must have been Keith's door, directly across from Shiro’s. Behind him, Shiro and Matt were talking to Pidge. He interjected, trying to sound like he wasn't conducting research. 

“You guys live down here - do you know that Keith kid from this floor?” 

Shiro smiled, warm and fond at the mention of Keith's name. “Keith? I know Keith.” 

“That's an understatement,” Matt snorted, poking Shiro in the ribs. “Keith is like Shiro's brother. Shiro basically raised him.” 

“He's a really good kid,” Shiro added, pulling Matt to his side to stop his prodding. Matt wriggled until his arm draped over him just the way he liked, and Shiro chuckled. “I mean, he's not really a kid anymore, but I've known him since he was.” 

Lance nodded, licking across his teeth. He kept his mouth busy so he wouldn't blurt out his surprise at everyone's apparent approval of Keith. Of course _Shiro_ liked him, but Shiro seemed like he liked everyone. Surely the Holts were a little less starry-eyed. 

“So Matt, you know him too?” he asked. Matt shrugged.

“Yeah, but not super well. Definitely not like Shiro does. But Pidge thinks the sun shines out of the guy’s ass, so I guess I kind of like him by default in that respect.”

Lance couldn't stop his eyes narrowing in Pidge’s direction. “Pidge?” 

“I thought you knew I knew Keith,” they said, as if Lance were the strange one. Lance frowned, only pulling a laugh out of them before they finally nodded. “Yeah, though, I love Keith. Not like...  _ love _ him, like I don't like him  _ romantically, _ it's not like that,” Pidge rambled. “But he's a really great guy. I also owe him big time, like probably my left leg and first born child, so.”

“So _everybody_ loves this guy?” Lance concluded, sighing the words. Around him, every head bowed and every response was one of agreement.

“Mhm.”

“Yup.” 

“Never met a person who didn't, once they got to know him,” Shiro said decidedly. Lance was outnumbered, apparently by every other person in the known universe. It wasn't even a fair fight. 

He exchanged pleasantries with the others for a few more minutes, happy for a change of subject before heading back upstairs with Blue following after him, his mind moving like the ocean hammering the shore, mid-storm. 

Maybe Hunk was right, said the first wave. Maybe Lance _was_ the problem, said the next. Perhaps everyone else was onto something, perhaps he and Keith had simply gotten off on the wrong foot upon meeting, and perhaps he really _might_ like him if he got to know him. 

If he thought about it for long enough, his mind offered as the waves of worry and doubt began to ease, still lapping at the edges of his mind even after he'd locked his door behind him, then maybe he would figure out exactly why he clashed with the one person everyone else seemed to love. Perhaps somewhere in the waters he'd need to wade through to figure it out, he'd understand how someone like Keith could make friends when Lance's own social life was still struggling to find its footing there in Arus. There was just so much about Keith that didn't make sense.

Lance was just glad for the fact that no one else knew exactly how much time he spent that afternoon dwelling on the subject of his dickheaded, downstairs neighbor.

\--

Time didn't seem to help. 

Lance spent the rest of the day trying to reason out his differences with Keith. No matter what angle he considered the problem from, the solution always seemed to bring him back to Keith being the reason for conflict. How could it be Lance, when he'd never had such issues with literally any other human being on the planet, especially one he barely knew? It had to be Keith, and yet, that was equally unlikely, if everyone else was to be believed. 

By the time the sun was setting once again outside, Lance thought he might have made some sense of it. Maybe it wasn't either one of them, exclusively. Perhaps something about him upset Keith. The only suggestions he could offer himself were that Keith was jealous or simply a very lonely person, or maybe a bit of both. 

Lance said as much aloud to Hunk as he flopped down onto their couch, as if telling him the results of extensive, scientific research. 

“Well, then why don't we invite him over next time we have a party?” Hunk offered. 

Lance's head snapped up to look at Hunk so quickly that his neck began to hurt. “What? Why?” 

Hunk shrugged. “So he won't be lonely.” 

The genuine compassion in Hunk’s voice caught Lance unprepared; sure, he disliked Keith, but what if the guy really was just lonely? Lance hated the thought of anyone being alone. 

Even more, he hated the fact that Hunk probably knew that about him, and he hated having to think of Keith with so much… _humanity._

“Him being lonely is not my problem, Hunk,” he said, trying to sound firmer in his words than he felt. “I'm not inviting that wannabe emo douchebag to any party. Ever. Period.”

“It's not just your party, you know. I live here, too,” Hunk answered, and there was more not-to-be-fucked-with in his tone than Lance had ever encountered from him. “Besides, I think you're right. Maybe he  _ is _ just lonely. He lives by himself, after all. Let's give him something to do other than be annoyed, and maybe he’ll come around.” 

“This is the worst idea you've had in a really long time,” Lance groaned, sinking into the sofa. He hefted Blue up from the floor to lie atop him like a living blanket, and sighed into the dog's fur. “But alright. Fine. He can come. Just once. And if he's an ass, I kick his ass.” 

Hunk waved a hand in his direction, dismissive. “We’ll work out the finer details later.”  

“Yeah, yeah. Just don't make me regret this.” 

Lance remained on the couch for a while, thoughts playing out on a screen behind his eyes as he drifted close to the edge of sleep, exhausted by his early and unwanted wake-up call. His brain battling between napping and not, he considered every possibility of Keith coming to his and Hunk’s next party, and in nearly every one of them, it all ended in disaster. He grumbled quietly as he pried his unwilling body from the couch half an hour later, forcing himself to remain awake; he would have to put all of his faith in Hunk, and hope that his friend was right. 

In the meantime, he needed to fix his sleep schedule - or lack thereof - and needed a distraction to keep himself awake. Feeling a text message vibrate the phone in his pocket, he thought of a solution. Peering around the corner, he could see that Hunk was gone, so he wouldn't have to censor himself. He closed the door to his bedroom behind himself and patted the bed to welcome Blue onto it beside him. She settled on his pillows, sprawling across them as if to keep him off. _Just as well,_ he thought, and didn't bother chastising her. 

Lance was adjusting just fine to life on his own, but that didn't mean he couldn't call his little sister and complain about it, just a little. 


End file.
